


Grief in Scarlet

by noori96



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noori96/pseuds/noori96
Summary: Moon Jongup had believed with every essence of his core that what he had done was right. He had firmly ascertained to himself that the life he had left behind was just full of scum and that included the 5 men that he had referred to as family. Leaving behind everything he starts to settle into a new life but old wounds that have yet to heal are easily opened and Jongup is about to find out first hand how easy it is for everything to be ripped apart, all through the appearance of a bright scarlet letter.  (Skydive AU)





	Grief in Scarlet

Guilt, guilt is a terrible thing. Once it seeps in, it travels to each and every corner and crevice. Like the blood running through your veins, and the nerves running down your spine the guilt becomes deep rooted and invasive. It is one thing for it to be the little voice dulled in the back of your mind but it’s completely another when it becomes the throbbing in your head, the aches of your bones, the wrinkles on your face.  Jongup stares in the mirror as he traces the blood lining his face and arms and grimaces at the memory of the multiple dead bodies. Washing his hands of the blood he mutters a good riddance and makes his way out of the shabby bathroom of the diner, not once pondering over the word that is guilt.

_Dear Jongup,_

_If you could turn back time what moment would you erase? I’d go back to when I first met that broken beaten teenager and would never have taught him to wield a gun; at least you would have retained your innocence.  You know I often wondered if I had made a mistake when my job was to initially keep you all safe. Himchan and me were the elders, we weren’t supposed to make you all part of the bloodshed and I regret that with every fiber of my being. Jongup maybe you did the right thing after all, maybe my life was only so much. If possible I would have loved to start over with you all, maybe somewhere far off in the country where we could all be happy and safe. We’d be a family and not constantly looking over our shoulders for death. You’d all finally be happy, maybe Daehyun would finally be able to properly find love, maybe Himchan wouldn’t have to steel himself so much and burden everything alone , maybe Youngjae would finally regain the lost spark in his eyes and maybe Junhong  wouldn’t have to grow up so fast. Maybe Jonguppie, just maybe you wouldn’t have had to be pushed so much to the edge to feel secure and whole in this world. But in the end this is all wishful thinking and I have lost the chance to make it up to you, all of you. I deserved it Jongup for I pulled you all in this life but Uppie did you really hate the other’s that much, know that we never ever thought that of you though. Sure things were starting to get rough but what mattered was we had eachother right, so please tell me you still had love for us? I refuse to accept that you only had hatred for us; I refuse to accept that pulling that trigger on Dae was so easy. Say that I am in denial but grant this one last wish for the dead man. Please ease my conscious._

_Sincerely,_

_Yongguk_

The letter sits on the dirty coffee table. He spots it like a blaring red light and immediately narrows his eyes. Scanning the room Jongup cautiously takes a step in, his past life still ingrained in every tense muscle. With a step of his foot and a turn in his waist he pivots silently side to side, makes sure that it’s safe.  He steps closer and grabs the letter, reading the engraved writing on the envelope. Muscles tense and the frown on his face gets deeper, no one knows a _Moon Jongup_ here. His gut tells him that he’s in for bad news. His gut doesn’t prepare him for how bad it is. His past aches renew as he reads the letter and his grip tightens on the paper as each second passes by. A dull throbbing starts in his head and he frantically looks around, expecting to see Yongguk’s cold eyes around every corner, how did he escape? Did any of the others live? He had thought they were dead.  He really had only pulled the trigger on Daehyun so was it possible they had survived. _Impossible,_ Yongjae’s blood seeping on him, Himchan getting hit in chest multiple times, Junhong dragging a dying Yongguk, it was impossible they had survived. Then again how would anyone know a Moon Jongup , how was this letter placed on his coffee table when he had insured to install a good three locks.  If they had survived would they be looking for revenge? His brain conjures up so many questions that in the end no one can give him the answer to. He moves after what feels like hours from the couch, his appetite lost and mind wide awake. Running a hand through his hair he walks to towards the bedroom and collapses on the bed awaiting a restless night.         

Morning does little to clear his clouded head. “YAH, Jin Soo where’s your head!” The voice rings in his ears and he hurries to grab a cloth to clean the spilled cranberry juice, forgetting for a few seconds that Jongup doesn’t exist anymore. As he stands by the sink later he once again traces the juice stains lining his white shirt, the red inciting memories that he no longer wants to remember, _He isn’t that man anymore, that man doesn’t exist, the people who he called friends never were there, he was always a stray without a home if he had any call on his own life_. Yongguk’s question circles his head and he shakes his head to clear it. Clenching his jaw he starts washing his hands roughly. _They deserved what was coming at them, sure I was as much a killer for a long time but that doesn’t excuse their sins. Who was responsible for that obsession anyways ? WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE VOID THAT CAME AFTER? Nothing excuses their sins. He asks about love, well the gunshot to Daehyun’s head should be enough proof of my love; the disgusting weight of Youngjae’s body should be proof of my love._ He repeats these words again and again in his head as he washes the red from his shirt, his jaw hurting from the pressure applied and his hands raw from the rough rubbing. For the following days it becomes his mantra, something that he uses to feel safe as soon as he spots the red envelope. Part of him doesn’t understand why he hasn’t thrown it out but he figures that by throwing it out would be letting Yongguk win, would show Yongguk that he is weak and fears his presence. The letter is used as a reminder that he can face the past proudly, that if Yongguk ever does show up he can say it to his face that he _NO_ he hasn’t loved them and values his sanity more.  _At least that’s what he would like to believe…_ _Didn’t Yongguk say it was his fault anyway?_

_To: Jongup_

_The fact that me and you are on the opposite end of this letter is actually a great start. The fact that you are far away from me even better. You really have no idea how many times I played that scene over and over in my head, how many times you stood in the place of Daehyun, how many times I stood facing you, finger on trigger and twisted expression on my face.  But then I see the same anguish and pain reflected in your eyes as the one I had seen in Youngjae’s as he caught your dying body, in Daehyun’s as he saw Himchan take the bullets for him, in Yongguk’s as he lifelessly shot to protect me. Because betrayal like that from a loved one is as good as being dead isn’t it, and I realize that I don’t want that kind of blood on my hands. But you Jongup, you really did surprise us all didn’t you, mister weak and timid turned out to be this. It’s unfortunate you did not see with your own eyes your beautiful set up take place. I see that pain and I get repulsed at myself so dare I ask, how did_ **YOU** _pull the trigger Jongup? And the fact that I get repulsed and that this is something that never gives me joy still tells me one thing, that no matter what you did there might come a point where I may be able to forgive you. That you, despite whatever you did, are someone who I considered family. The others might not be as harsh and so for their sake I will be. I don’t want you to suffer, that much I realized.  I may be the youngest but that does not mean I’m a fool, nothing comes without a price and I have paid mine in the anger that rages to kill you and the love that refuses to let me do so. It’s a give and take world so now let me ask this Jongup, what did you have to give up?_

_With as much sincerity as possible,_

_Junhong_

Jongup doesn’t seem to have a sense of time anymore, the days pass in and pass out and he passes with them. But he remembers the exact date and time of the appearance of the second envelope, _November 15, 12:00 am, Junhongs birthday._ The night blankets over him, suffocates him and he cannot stay put under the covers. The sheets dance around his legs, eventually becoming a tightening python. He untangles himself and lets a sigh break the silence. Not once has Yongguk’s letter left his thoughts but he believes he is winning the battle here, something he can overcome. He feels prickles and tingles in the back of his throat and with a grunt gets off the bed to get a glass of water. That inkling of a scratch turns into a full blown cough when he spots the same blood red envelope on the table.  Suddenly his senses get heightened. The leaky faucet in the kitchen dripping, the fabric of his pants scrapping his skin, the loud thumping of his heart magnified in his ears. The breath he doesn’t realize he is holding lets out in sudden wheezes and then the room is closing in and he feels like he is being constricted.  After he has finally managed to push Yongguk to the depths of his mind again, this is a low blow he mutters, this isn’t fair. The few meters from the kitchen to the coffee table seem like an eternity and the letter burns the calloused palm he grips it with. Willing his brain to be ready he opens the letter and starts reading it. If the shadows were able to testify his conditions they would speak of the slow deterioration of the young man standing in the middle of the mostly empty room. They would notice the dilating of his pupils, the clenching of his jaw, the slacking in his posture as he slowly falls towards the floor. They would reflect the angered screams and the hopelessness suffocating each inch of the tiny 1 bedroom apartment. They would cry of the firey red of anger lost in a very dark abyss.

The next few hours are a blur and within the dark twilight only the stars and the loneliness are witness to the despair and desperation that follows. With the first ray of sunshine returns the lost sanity. Jongup doesn’t understand the mess in the room. Doesn’t understand his bloodied knuckles or the upturned sofa. Doesn’t understand why the glass he was holding lies shattered a good 8 feet away from him. He feels the aftereffects of the rage within him.  Minimal details grate on his nerves, ranging from the dancing morning shadows as they move from the window and touch the various objects in the room to the rough patchy feeling of the carpet underneath his feet. The little water stained spot on the dull wall ignites fury in him and the _“Let’s Laugh”_ on the coffee mug sitting on the table makes him want to chuck it out the stained window. Watch it hit the ground below and shatter in a million pieces, the sun catching it as it as it falls and the rays scattering as they bounce of the tiny pieces later. He sinks to the couch and folds into himself as much as possible, exhausted and as the first angry tear falls a quiet voice resonates off the dull white walls _“my sanity Junhong, my Sanity.”_

 **He watches the red blossom, start of as a speckle in the white shirt of the man and like a blooming flower imprint on the crisp colour. He watches, mesmerized and horrified, as he sees the consequences of his action take shape. He watches as each sinew on the man’s face clenches and as the brightness in his eyes dull.** The eyes **. He watches, eye’s frightfully wide open. He watches murder take place.**

His daily routine continues, though now there is an extra addition to it. The anger that spawns the night of Junhong’s letter refuses to leave him. It bites and it gnaws, it travels the full length of his body. The coworkers that did not give him a second glance, now do. They turn their eyes and when he catches them every once in a while he sees it again, _Fear._ That. That fear drives him ballistic. He wants to tear his hair, to scream and bawl and arrive to a point of desensitization.  Every morning he wakes up to the blanket wrapped around him like a snake and lungs that refuse to take in air. Sleep stabs him with a knife and the day keeps opening the wounds. The doubt that Yongguk initiated, the doubt he had tried so hard to slaughter and leave for dead, comes banging day and night. Except now it has changed forms, 5 different forms, all asking him the same question.  The memories he had closed of all come back and hit.  He remembers their laughter as they sit around and eat.  He remembers the happiness and twinkle in their eye, the amused voices and affectionate gestures. Remembers being pulled into a hug each night as he cries. He remembers seeing that laughter turns to shots, the twinkle turn to stone and the affection turn to demise. He remembers the coldness of the gun, the loud ring of the bullet, the red on the shirt, those lifeless eyes. He remembers the fear. Those wretched dead eyes. The bodies increase in number. Once again those eyes. The hatred spawns.

He remembers it start from the fear.  The fear of life.  Those eyes remind him of the fragility of human life, remind him how easy it is to take away. Suddenly it’s as if a seed takes root in his mind, would they betray him like the rest of the world did? He’s never let anyone this close, see all his fragility and fear and suddenly it’s as if he is bare. He has picked up their abnormalities, for that’s all they are in their way of life, Youngjae’s swiping habits, Yongguk’s resistance to their path, Daehyun’s constant disappearances and reappearances accompanied by the smell of alcohol. Now those abnormalities don’t seem just abnormal, they seem dangerous.  That fragility teaches him a painful lesson, that there is no one who can protect you.  The only one he can trust is himself. And he does. He trusts himself, his gun and his blade. Those realization suddenly makes the killings easier, but he lets that easiness get out of control. The anger that takes over him on those so called _missions_ turns to disgust when he washes the blood. It’s a terrible addiction; he can’t stop the emotions and hates himself later as they overpower him. Often, he lies awake at night; hating himself until in the dark of one night he realizes he is innocent. The initial feeling he has is guilt, as if doubting them isn’t bad enough but blaming them for leading him on this path, it’s not as if he is a child who couldn’t decide and say no. _Oh but you were a child, you were innocent and pure but they corrupted you._ From here on the real battle starts and he really did fight really did try to keep sane. Those thoughts overtake him every night. Days turn to weeks and he doesn’t know when but he stops having the will to fight off anymore. _Why fight when this isn’t you’re responsibility anyways, the anger isn’t your fault so let it consume you. They can come pick up the pieces._ The little snake that arises in the depth of his mind becomes a monster that overtakes him.  And really, really God knows how hard it was to fight it, it isn’t his fault he was too late before it consumed everything.  Before it turns into an endless void. A darkness in which he doesn’t realize who has the knife and who lies under it. They would forgive for that wouldn’t they. Those memories incite responsibility now.  If only it weren’t for those wretched eyes.

 ** _You took me in._** _you let me to kill. **You taught to smile.** I clothed fear each night. **We ate food at the same table.**   We drank life and blood. **I saw the sparkle in your eyes.**_ _They were stone cold. **I felt safe around you.**_ _Where did my safety lie? **You told me you loved me.** You spread death. **I changed because of you.** That monster ate you up. _

After the memories come back, the hatred shifts to himself. He’s bare once again but this time he doesn’t even have his gun and blade to fight the ghosts of his path with. He coops up that anger, doesn’t know where to release it now. As soon as the day starts he wills it to end, afraid for the people around him now, afraid of himself.

It’s cold as he leaves work for the day, to him, the worst of the day over. He walks fast, passing the dead alleyways as he heads for the dark of apartment. The long years have trained his eyes and he curses under his breath as he turns the corner. There are shadows in the nearby alley way.  _A girl, a man and absolutely no way to run._ He becomes hyperaware, the air is as toxic as it is in his apartment and the moment he sees the man’s hands head towards his belt, the beast that he has tried to keep at bay awakens. Before he even realizes both the flesh of his knuckles and the man’s face is torn. The next 5 minutes seem like an eternity. He stares at his handiwork, the young girl long gone. Stares as he can barely recognize the mangled face.  He stares in fear and disgust. _It’s happening again, WHY IS IT HAPPENING AGAIN! It’s onl_ y when he sees the man’s chest rise and fall does he run. He runs from the horror of the streets back to the nightmares that keep him caged. And as he sees the same damned red envelope welcome him home does he realizes. The beast never was born, it was only bred. His world comes crashing down a second time.

_Hey Uppie,_

_There is so much I want to say but I really don’t know how to phrase it and I worry that when I do figure it out I won’t be able to stop and for that matter, let go. You always reminded me of a child when you first joined us, and it’s often that child that I am reminded of. You never used to eat properly, would always get sick because the air conditioner was left on too high, would often cry at night alone. Time went on, the sobbing stopped at night, and I stopped being reminded of the child I saw. I am not much older then you, Heck I have no right to find you broken when I myself was so broken. But even though I wasn’t much older I always felt the need to look out for you and Junhong. Himchan was too busy, Yongguk had already too much to shoulder and Daehyun, let’s just say he was as lost as you were. Time passed and we all changed, not much for the better unfortunately. I stopped hearing your sobs at night but whether you stopped sobbing I can’t really say. Did I become more deaf or did you go further away? I pound my brain over this day and night, was I too late? Could I have stopped all of this? Could I have helped you if I hadn’t ignored the signs? To talk to you when you stopped crying.  I thought you had grown, what had grown though was something I should have helped fight. If only, if only, if only! If only I could say that I had no part in the way everything ended. If only I could say that I only felt anger and sadness when I hugged you close and not that tiny bitter guilt in the crevice of my mind. It’s so bitter when you are left to such hanging thought’s, It’s like waiting for the story to continue after a cliffhanger only to be left dead to your imagination. I can’t say anymore but tell me. Are you eating? Is the air conditioner on low? Do you at least now trust a shoulder enough to let it be soaked with your tears?_

_Still yours,_

_Youngjae_

For the first time he cries for them. He reads the letter and clutches it with his shaking hands, the wet spots engraving themselves on that piece of paper leaving small signs of his emptiness. As he enters this new world he realizes there is no reality to him anymore.  The sense of time passing now no longer exists. The day and night meld into one.  The feelings initiated by Junhong’s letter become solidified by Youngjae’s.  He accepts his defeat with every fiber of his being and two new words enter his wordless dictionary. Guilt and loneliness come to define him. After the sudden rage now comes an empty still. He wonders life aimlessly; there is no meaning in survival anymore. He had thought so long that their demise was due to the creature they made him become.  That the world they had brought him into deserved to burn, that somewhere in his twisted mind it was to repay their love by stopping their hands from getting anymore red.  None of that matters anymore. That alleyway haunts him, that creature never came from them it just lurked inside him and he was the one who let it loose.  He stares in the mirror day and night, questioning the man looking back at him. Questioning him, interrogating him, daring him to accept every single sin. **_You let it out of control Moon Jongup. You let it walk the length of your mind and ensnare. How could you have even dared to question immorality and betrayal Jongup? YOU FOOL! They killed people who were worse than trash, you killed the only people you could call family._**

_Hey Jongup,_

_Funny how when I think about it was never Uppie or Jonguppie like all the others used to call you. I don’t know whether to bitterly laugh or break down and cry at that thought. A nickname, that’s all that it is but it is enough destroy that wall between love and obedience and affection and insubordination. Or that is what I always thought, how useless was that leadership when it couldn’t even protect you all. To Hell with such a leader! Jongup I feel so empty, I feel so lost and I feel drained. Day and night it haunts me that I was the singular cause of all this, this disgusting life, the guns in all your hands, the smell of blood ensnaring all of us. It’s interesting how much of a void it becomes, funny how the smiles never seem to reach the eyes of people, how the sun doesn’t seem bright and the air feel like a suffocating blanket. Funny how day in and day out your thoughts constantly stab you telling you that every single damn thing is your fault, that the tears that fall out of the eyes of people that you care for are the result of the hard work you put in to ruin your life as well as theirs. Curse it Uppie, I was trash, am trash, maybe this is what I deserved. I feel empty, angry and joyless. There is only one satisfaction though that the world we once lived in, you burned it to the ground and Jongup people like us aren’t phoenixs we don’t have that beauty or courage or hope for a new life. Jongup people like us don’t rise from the ashes; we burn and take others long with us._

_Himchan_

Youngjae’s letter is like a replay button for him that has completely broken. He is stuck in the past, repeating his every action, wandering aimlessly, seeing what could have been done different so he can make this right. The shoving, the anger, the bitterness is displayed to him raw and bare allowing him to evaluate every single breathing moment. He watches it with a new form of desperation, to find even the slightest bit of redemption in himself, to save himself from drowning in complete darkness once more. He turns into an addicted gambler, bargaining the smallest good deed on the table in exchange to wipe out numerous sins. He fears though the deeds are too little and the time to collect them seems to keep ticking. With his endless void it becomes hard to calculate that time though, it becomes hard to collect more so he is only stuck with his broken tape and recorded _if only_. If only he had the will to open that closed door and let them in, if only he had recognized that he could fight his demons another way, if only he hadn’t let the monster ensnare him so madly in a cage that he eventually found it hard to escape. If only life was not so fragile and flowers continued to bloom for their whole life and if only white clouds never turned gray. _If only._

The delusions turn towards the letters and his fear turns to hope. If he gets them they might be there still, maybe they are punishing him for his sins and getting retribution, and maybe just maybe things can go back to the way they were before, once the punishment has been dealt. The letters are a sign and they all seem to have forgiven him, _But then why won’t they show up before him!_ He waits for the next one to show up yet fears it at the same time _. Himchan and Daehyun,  Himchan their strong no nonsense leader and Daehyun the wildcracker_ _who never forgets_.  And then he bargains in his head again, bargains with the red on the letter that signifies blood to him to let him be in peace once all the torment is over, bargains with it to give him the slight happiness and hope he now yearns for after all the pain. Bargains and says that he is willing to take every last shot, cut and knife if they are allowed to heal later. All that bargaining still doesn’t prepare for him when the blood red shows again. The envelope lies on his bed and he desperately clutches it with shaking hands. He stares at the neat engraved name for what feels like centuries before finally mustering up the courage to face his leader again.

He braces and steels but the ground still has an uncanny way of slipping under his feet to let him fall further, which for flash of a second he finds bitterly amusing as he didn’t think there was anywhere else left to fall. His pit though seems bottomless and the journey there endless. And he falls, he falls and falls until his fingernails have been ingrained with blood and grime from trying to hold onto a dirt wall that has no support. He reads Himchan’s letter and as each sentence passes, each paragraph ends he realizes he’s releasing his fingers one by one from that wall, letting go little by little until he no longer has any support saving him from the abyss he has carved for himself.  And his world is lifeless, there is no such thing as a pleasant smell or a repulsive odor, no such thing as a beautiful sunrise or a dark dawn, no such thing as a fun rhythm or a tuneless screech. Everything is grey, everything is bleak, and everything is **gone**.

**Time, space, feelings, there is no such thing in the bleak world he has entered. He’s emptied out and walking in a never ending tunnel. A tunnel with a closed off exit and one hell of an entrance. So he walks that tunnel, trudges along with really no reason. Sometimes the walls of the tunnel change, become glass from stone, maybe even slightly widen, when he wakes up on the brighter side of the bed. Other times they start enclosing in, the stone suddenly solid cold steel, taking and sucking the air in his lungs with them too, he prefers to try and forget those days. As he walks he encounters things on the walls, writings. They seem to be faded, holding on to the wall just like he was at one point. They sometimes say hopeful things show him beautiful images that he tries to understand, an infant being coddled by his mother, a sunset with vibrant colours, a family on a picnic, a tiny ant carrying a sugar cube twice its size. Words such as beauty, life, hope, friends, family, nature all etched out along the wall. Most of the time though the images are terrifying, so terrifying that he wishes a hole would open in the ground and just suck him in ending everything there. Mutilated bodies, bloodied knifes, crying bent over figures haunt him as he drags his feet along the dirt. The tunnel becomes his home, his life and his grave.**

_7 hours, 7 days, 7 weeks?_ How long he hasn’t left the apartment he doesn’t know.  He doesn’t notice the pile of clothes collecting on the coach or the dishes in the sink. He doesn’t notice the boxes of takeout adorning his tables or the stains on his t-shirts. When he looks at the analog clock he can’t seem to understand what the hands are for and what the squiggly random lines encircling the face are.  His senses become numb and his day to day life gray and endless. When it starts and how it ends he really doesn’t know anymore and he doesn’t want to know. Sometimes he finds himself mentally cursing everything. The stupid laughter of children outside playing on the street, the patter of feet that he  can for some reason clearly hear on the upstairs apartment, his futile and absolutely useless existence that has done nothing but cause pain, anger and death.  On his better days he finds himself surfing the TV, preferring the useless noise rather than minding it and it’s on those days he amazingly eats more than one small bowl of rice, it’s a miraculous two bowls instead. His life becomes a void again, in which he is constantly trying to find something, to understand what is going on, but never really getting there because there is this impending wall between him and his deepest thoughts.  The world’s existence along with himself seems to be just an illusion.  There are moments when he doesn’t even realize the wetness on his face until he touches it. Doesn’t realize that he can actually feel emotion apart from emptiness.  The bills at his doorstep start to collect up and the last notice for payments end up shaking him slightly out of his reverie.  And so he trudges back to existence, trudges back to routine and normalcy and everything else that society labels as adulthood. Though everything has now shifted, there are no faces to the countless bodies walking around. They have eyes, a mouth, a nose and two ears but like a mixed up puzzle the pieces do not seem to connect to form the whole face. Voices sound monotone, and irrelevant words are just noise to his ears. His coworkers have gone back to ignoring him; there are no longer any glances, no longer fear in their eyes and no longer any interest in him. He is one of many that remind them of the darker grittier aspects of life that they can relate to but do not want to be reminded off. How deep he is into that hole though even they cannot fathom.  For a while that is how his life continues and the highlight of his day is the 20 minute walk from the café he works at to his dingy apartment. It that period of time he is consumed by anticipation. Anticipation of the last letter. _Daehyun._ The start of all this and maybe, just maybe, the end of it all too. The time feels like torture but he allows this one small thing to allow a little hope in his grey life. And it comes, in the form a white envelope engraved with his name and an 8X11 piece of paper.  And he clings on to that small hope; he allows his whole essence to be fully consumed by his pain, his grief and his fear. For the longest while he stops fighting, he lets every memory run the course of his mind, touch every crevice of it, every bit of sadness and happiness he has experienced. Each piece of anger and embarrassment he has felt. The warmth of love, the small brightness in smiles, the emptiness in tears and the fear of himself.  He accepts his sins and blessings, his faults, his flaws, his abilities. He allows Daehyun’s words to envelope him like a blanket, to pierce his skin and wounds and open him up completely raw so that all the bad blood can flow out.  And the night is long, it’s torturous and he cries at every shard of pain that acceptance brings.  Cries at the guilt of his sins, and his useless inability to feel the touch of love again, to see the only people he had ever cared for again. But he is rewarded when he the sun comes up, for the beauty of it consumes him. He sees its light bounce around the corners of the room as it comes up, dance around his feet and leave little sparks of happiness around him.  He sees it fill the white dreary apartment of his with colours as he sits with his back to the wall facing the window.  And as the sunrays start to wash over him he puts the paper to his heart, closes his eyes and lets the tears flow out, for this feeling of beauty and peace is one he hasn’t experienced in a long long time.

_Jongup._

_Hey kid, how are you? It hurts to have you so close but so far away. To not be able to envelope you into a hug and say it’s going to be ok. Jongup listen. I was mad, I was so angry and so lost and I felt a part of me had been ripped out on that night in the warehouse. To see each person I held so dear be ripped apart and taken from me one by one and then to have the last thing I see be your broken, twisted self staring right into me, blaming me, was absolute torture. But I learnt something from that Jongup, everything that happens to us, everything that occurs is a result of two things. Fate and our own actions. Let me ask you one thing? Would you ever erase us coming into your life? All the nights we spent imitating dumb show on TV. How we used to go in pairs to the fish market and steal food from the stalls   laughing as we ran away from the shopkeeper chasing us, yelling curses. Junhong always complaining that he never got to choose what we would have when we went out to eat for dinner. Yongguk nagging us to wear extra layers when it started snowing and Himchan always backing him up when we complained we were already fine. Youngjae bragging whenever he won at darts and how it always somehow resulted us being in a dogpile, joking around that he wasn’t the real winner as he always ended up underneath. Would you ever erase coming home to see them greet you hello Jongup? If your answer is no to that then that means you can’t trade everything else that came either Jongup. If you don’t want to erase all the happiness and laughter then you can’t erase whatever came as a result of that. That includes the murder, the anger and even the betrayal that resulted as consequence of us six being together. So learn to accept that guilt and regret and let it define you and agree that you did wrong but do something to change that, stop wallowing up in yourself and give back as much as you took. If fate decided to bring us together then fate also was going to rip us apart at one point. And then comes the question of our own actions.  Jongup we all are responsible for our own actions, we weren’t some docile, kind beings. We all were killing machines and even in our last moments we all went down fighting, we went down together. There are qualms but in the long list of my sins, faults and regrets you being the one to end me actually comes pretty far below. That night seeing everything that I loved and held so precious reminded me of how many times I’ve stolen the same exact thing from others. Sure we killed drug lords and scums but those men in the warehouse were law abiding officers, officers who probably treasured a wife, a mother, a brother or a child just as I treasured all of you. So like everything else in life misery is accompanied by a silver lining. Jongup stop looking at life as just black and white riddled with grey. Stop thinking of the past and now concentrate on the future. You killed and murdered and hurt the people you love most. But here’s the thing Jongup your life is not over yet. Let that hand on the clock move, if you hurt then make up for it, give back, change things. People go but people also come so let others into your life, let them help you and keep you on the straight path. And most of all don’t forget that every coin has 2 sides. So you do not only have a past but also has a future. Repent for your sins because right now you have that chance. And here I will leave you but before I do, do one thing for me. When you are done going through the pain put this letter to your heart and repeat something for me “things will be down but time will keep moving. So while bad periods may come they will always pass and lead to a better time.”_

_Daehyun_

Grief, grief is a terrible thing. Once it seeps in, it travels to each and every corner and crevice. Like the blood running through your veins, and the nerves running down your spine the grief becomes deep rooted and invasive. It is one thing for it to be the little voice yelling on your shoulder but it’s completely another when it becomes the throbbing in your head, the aches of your bones, the wrinkles on your face.  Moon Jongup looks in the mirror once again after the sun has fully risen and as he looks he ascertains that he has definitely learnt the meaning of it the hard way.  He then turns away and walks to his room and files the last white letter along with the red. As he does so he lets a little smile grace his feature, _and he definitely has been to hell and back because of it._


End file.
